


Death of a Bachelor

by Susspencer



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 02:32:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14275011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Susspencer/pseuds/Susspencer
Summary: Inspired by the song Death of a Bachelor, recorded by Panic at the Disco, James returns from another mission, where his Quartermaster has saved his arse again.  Is 007 going to be the death of poor Q?  Or will this notorious Lothario finally settle down and give Q some peace?





	Death of a Bachelor

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first 00Q, so excited to get one finished. So terrified to get one of them finished, hope you enjoy.

It was a night out for the double O’s, quartermaster unit, and a few other minions. They were celebrating another successful mission. 007 was at a table alone, nursing his drink. He was watching Q interact with his team. He knew, that it was over. This mission, the close calls, the moment when Q had fed him the information that saved his arse, again, he was going to have to make this decision. It was not one that he made lightly. Alec came over and joined him.

“Old man? Something wrong?”

With a sigh, he answered. “Do I look lonely?”

“We all do. Our job doesn’t leave us room for relationships. We knew this going in. What’s on your mind?”

“Not sure, I can continue anymore. It may be time for the Death of a Bachelor.” Bond stated, as clear as he stated his name.

006, looked puzzled. He knew James would never hurt himself. Alec hadn’t seen Bond with anyone, so he couldn’t be considering marriage. Spies don’t get, happily ever after. Alec knew better than to pry. He ordered drinks for both of them. His attention was pulled away when the quartermaster party burst into laughter. Upon turning back to James, he noticed a bit of a smile on James’ face. The drinks arrived at the table, along with them so did Eve.

“Gentlemen, may I join you?”

Bond stood, pulled a chair out for her. 

Alec said, “But of course, my dear.”

“James looked lonely, I couldn’t have that. What is with the long face?”

“Just haven’t had my heart in the right place, I guess.” James sullenly replied. 

“Well, Alec, we must find a way to get it where it belongs, then.” Eve chuckled, lightly.

Alec nodded. James raised a brow. He wasn’t sure he trusted these two with his welfare. Q stood, excused himself from the group, and headed to the loo. James did the same at his table. When they arrived in the loo, James checked for anyone else. He locked the entrance door, after he found, that only Q was there. Bond leaned on the wall, and waited for Q. Q went to the sink to wash his hands. He looked up in the mirror to discover James. His face lit up. 

“Hello, Handsome. Thank you again for saving my arse.”

“Just part of the job.” Q answered, as he dried his hands. “Like your job is to return my equipment in one piece.”

“Well, I guess some of us are better at our jobs than others.” James snarked, as he slunk closer to Q.

“A proper agent,” Q threw away his paper towel, turned to face Bond, face to face, “would apologize for not returning equipment.”

James grabbed Q by the hips pulled him to him, and kissed him hard. Q’s arms went up around 007’s neck, as he kissed back. Bond’s tongue tangled with Q’s as they kissed each other. Someone let out a moan. Q pulled back for air. James let go, straightened his shirt, and said.

“I’m sorry about the equipment, Quartermaster. Forgive me please.”

“All’s forgiven.” Q answered, checking himself.

The men walked out returning to their tables. The evening continued. James tried to keep a smile on his face, but his mind was on his Quartermaster.   
During the mission, James had realized how much he depended on Q, not just in the field, but when he returned home. They had kept their relationship hidden well, or they had hoped. Neither had any indication that MI6 knew. It seemed that Q was the only person or thing that made him happy anymore. A successful mission use to be a joyous thing. Saving the world, all though it was just Bond’s job, should bring an agent pride. For James, it just brought him the joy of knowing he would soon be in his beloved England, but, more importantly, in his beloved Q’s arms and bed. When he noticed, that his thoughts, were more focussed on being with Q than saving the world, he knew he had fallen. For God, Queen, and Country, had become for Q, Queen, and Country. 

The night wore on, Eve excused herself and mingled with Q branch and others. Alec made his excuses to go flirt with a sexy waitress, with whom he left by the end of the night. James realized, that he had been sitting there too long. He paid his tab, left, and grabbed a taxi back to his flat. He made his way up slowly, always with a watchful eye. James locked the door behind him. He tossed the keys on the table. He made his way to the shower, undressed, not caring about his clothes scattered on the floor. He just stood under the hot water. His face hanging down, the water poured over him, his mind not giving him a break. As the water fell over his broad shoulders, tire muscles, and firm buttocks, he felt the tension release. 

He spoke to himself. “You know, you have to make a choice. You can make split second life or death decisions in the field, everyday. Why are you struggling with this?”

He lathered his body up, turned to shampoo his hair, when he heard a noise. He opened the shower door, listened intently, and heard nothing more. He quickly rinsed off. James stepped out. He went to grab his Walther, but he hadn’t brought it in with him. He started to follow the trail of clothes to get to it, when he was met face to face with a man. Curly dark hair, glasses, five o’ clock shadow, lean, lanky, a bit awkward. James breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Did I scare you, James? I thought I would be expected?”

“I didn’t hear you call out.”

“I forgot to. Sorry.” Q apologized, reaching for James’ cheek.

He ran his thumb across Bond’s jaw. Bond leaned his head into the touch.

“You are dripping though, dear.”

Q walked past James to fetch a towel. He came back and began to dry James’ back. After he ran the towel over James’ shoulders, Q leaned forward and kissed each one. The towel dried the rest of James’ back, under the constant supervision of Q. Bond felt himself let go. Not just relax, or shake off a mission, but actually let go. A firm squeeze to the bum, had Bond turning to face his master, his Quartermaster. The loving hands and towel were on his chest before he finished the turn. By the time the towel reached his navel, tongues were intertwined, James had his hands tangled in Q’s hair. Shortly, the towel on the floor, James backstepping to the bed, the kiss continuing, Q feels his tie pull from his collar. James sat on the bed. He untucked Q’s shirt, unbuttoned it, as Q stood there staring at the scar covered man. Every scar a badge of honor, courage, that made him irresistible. 

James kissed Q’s navel pulling the man between his legs, closer to him. He reached up, pushed the shirt off the shoulders. It fluttered to the floor, as James’ kisses fluttered against Q’s skin. Q closed his eyes, leaned in, and held the man tight against his abs. James nipped and sucked. It seemed like forever, but wasn’t long at all. The intimate exchange said my heart’s going to burst. Q reached down, unfastened his belt. James sat back. He wanted to reach up and take over, but he couldn’t move. His eyes locked on his Q. 

There was never a time like this before. What was different? His arms wouldn’t move. He just watched trousers fall to the floor. Q stepped out of them, like a pro. He put his hands on James’ shoulders pushed back, as he planted a kiss on him. Arms still motionless, Bond tumbled on the bed. Q found a comfortable position to continue his assault. A moan, a lick on the neck, nibble on the earlobe, something mumbled in Bond’s ear. Kisses, suckles, down the neck to the collarbone. The realization that something was said. The brain trying to process what was said. Arms wrapped around Q. James moaned again, mumbled something about Q’s skill. Hard pricks rubbed against each other. Hands roamed down towards golden globes of warm flesh. A nipple is nipped, sucked, the other twisted. Thrust, rut, more words of praise, of excitement, neither man stopping to respond. James’ hands grabbed hold of his round targets. He gripped them harder than any trigger, that he had ever pulled. Q’s head popped up, a moan roared out of the young man. 

“James!”

With that Bond rolled them over, the mission was clear. He kissed Q, barely asking permission to enter. Tongues tangled, he tasted, he took, his goal clear. 

“I will be, the best you’ve ever had.” James thought, as he tackled his pleasant challenge. 

Q, never one to back away from a match, grabbed Bond’s shoulders, wrapped his legs around the man’s waist, pivoting his hips between gasps and moans. James mind went through all the honeypot missions, all the men and women he had taken for Queen and country. He wanted to cry, not a one ever through all the years, wore the passion, the feeling, the love that was on the face of the man currently beneath him. No not the man currently beneath him, his love, his Q. 

Bang, Bang. It was as clear as the shot Moneypenny had put in his chest. It burned. It stung. He could feel himself fall. 

Q reached for the bottle on the nightstand. He popped the lid. He poured the liquid in his hand. Prep was something Q excelled in. Quartermaster after all, supply right. James raised himself off of Q. As though he was in the movieroom with M, viewing surveillance footage of a target, James paid attention to every detail. One finger, in and out slowly at first, then a second finger. Sweet moans, writhes, the lithe body of his lover, as he joyfully made sure that the equipment was in working order. Q then poured more liquid over Bond’s long hard shaft. With a smile, on his face, Q pulled James to him. You could hear the unspoken, “get on with it James, quit lollygagging.” 

James lined himself up with Q’s delicious hole. He pushed, slid past the ring of muscles that tried to deny him. Slowly until fully seated, he leaned down, brushed the hair from Q’s forehead. Eye to eye, chest to chest, groin to groin, flesh to flesh, They were one. James felt everything else fall, the sky, the moon, everything, came crashing down like a waterfall. Q wrapped his legs around Bond again, pulled him closer to get him to move. As they moved together, James felt complete for the first time in his life. He knew what he had to do. 

He sped up his thrusts, giving his everything to Q. Q gave back equally. He wanted even more. 

“Harder James.” He yelled.

“But you are always bugging me to take of the equipment.” James chuckled.

“I am well versed in what the equipment (moans) can handle 007, and I say harder, harder.” 

James chased his orgasm harder, each thrust of the hips led by his muscular legs. Q reached between them, stroked himself. Just as Q screamed James’ name, and came in thick strands, James stilled. With a look of almost worship on his face, as he coated Q’s insides. James lowered himself to kiss his Q. He rolled over and out. Q cuddled on his chest. There was a peaceful silence. The two men were content, happy, and there was nothing that needed to be said. James stroked Q’s hair. He could hear the man’s breathing even out.

“Shower old man? Equipment needs cleaning.” 007 snickered.

“I’m sure both our equipment would benefit from a good washing.” Q said, matter of factly.

James stood put his hand out to pull Q up. They were off to the shower. Mutual back washes, shampoos, and lazy make out session, completed the shower. James exited first to change the linens. When Q emerged, James was laying there on his side. He didn’t look quite right.

“You okay, James? I know the mission was rough.” Q asked, as he climbed under the sheets. “You are back where you belong now.”

This caused James to smile. His look dropped back down though.

“I’m afraid, I have some rather bad news Q.” 

Q looked at him, almost terrified. 

“You see, I’ve been wounded and it’s fatal.” Q’s expression became perplexed. “And depending on your answer, I will need to report the death to MI6.”

“JAMES! What are you on about?” Q fussed.

James reached behind his back and produced a small box. 

“Q will you marry me and be responsible for the death of a bachelor?”

Q slapped James chest Said “YES!” and they both laughed, as James placed the ring on his finger.


End file.
